Dope and Communism
by CelticCross83
Summary: Harry's a communist. Snape smoked(still smokes?) dope. Things get strange.


Disclaimer: I own hardback American editions of all the books, four dogs, my computer and nothing else I'm willing to admit to. Nowhere in that list is the right to the Harry Potter franchise.

A/N: This is not exactly a crackfic, as I wasn't on crack when I wrote it. I was in fact smoking sinsemilla, so I suppose that makes this a dopefic, or possibly a potfic. I would also like to note that I am writing this from my aunt's house in Amsterdam, where I'm spending the week touring hash bars and getting strange ideas. Therefore, I am not admitting a felony, i.e. Narcotics Possession, because it's more or less legal to have dope here. Now that I've covered all the legal bases, on with the fic. Oh, yeah, and it begins in media res, just so you don't think that part's missing.

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"Mister Potter, what disturbs me is not the fact that you wish to be buggered publicly on the Hufflepuff table during the lunch hour, although that is worrying, nor is it the fact that you wish to wear a rabbit suit while doing so, although that obviously means you've gone mad, but the fact that the person you wish to be buggering you is myself, which is a clear sign of execrably bad taste in men!" Snape appeared mildly horrified. 

"Professor, does this mean you won't help me overthrow the uncultured petit-bourgeois mindset of the Hogwarts population? And why does the idea that I have bad taste in men worry you more than the idea that I've gone mad?" Harry was perplexed.

"Insanity in wizards is a sign of unusually powerful magic. The odder the behavior, the stronger the wizard. Why do you Dumbledore is so erratic? It does, not, however, usually take the form of vaguely Marxist ramblings. How, exactly, would an act of public obscenity help enlighten these," Snape searched for a word, "these _unwashed masses?_"

"The shock of public buggery will disarrange their orderly little world. The rabbit suit lends an absurdist counterpoint to the whole debacle. The choice of partner indicates absolute contempt for modern standards of attractiveness. Furthermore, it is a juxtaposition of ideals: the Gryffindor Golden Boy and the Greasy Git Potions Master."

"As much as I would enjoy seeing the shock on the faces of those ignorant little troglodytes, it's more than my job's worth. Albus would sack me on the spot. Damnation, when did I even start considering this?"

"When you noticed how deliciously sexy I became over the summer holidays, perhaps? Anyway, Dumbledore wouldn't be able to sack you. It would be immensely hypocritical of him, seeing as he's shagging that awful slut Lavender Brown. He writes her the most awfully soppy love notes and she bats her eyelashes, which is, I suppose, all she is good for." Harry was contemptuous.

"How would you know that they're together, much less what kind of love notes the headmaster writes?"

"Hermione shares a room with Lavender, and she does have this distressing little habit of reading and correcting private correspondence. She brought one to show me once, and she'd marked all the grammatical errors, mixed metaphors and logical fallacies. There was more red ink on the paper than black. It doesn't matter, though. We are all comrades in throwing off the shackles of bureaucratic oppression."

"Potter, when I find out who gave you access to 'The Communist Manifesto', I will string them up by their thumbs. Fanaticism is all well and good, when directed into proper channels. However, I do not feel that Bolshevism is the proper channel."

"It wasn't 'The Communist Manifesto', and it isn't Bolshevism. Ginny loaned me her copy of Mao's 'Little Red Book'. She has been practicing solidarity with the people since the incident in the Chamber of Secrets, which is now referred to as The People's Commune."

"What do you mean, 'The People's Commune'? What people? I don't think that the student body, as a whole or as individuals, will want to go there. It won't be any good as a commune. It's probably no good for smoking dope. I'll wager a month's salary that the acoustics aren't even any good."

"What would you know about it, anyway?" Harry was sullen, disliking having his bubble burst.

"Plenty. I was a student here in the 60's, and the only place worth smoking dope in was a chamber beneath Ravenclaw tower that was once Rowena Ravenclaw's private library. There were big sofas and somebody had enchanted a record player to work in magical environments. Everybody who was anybody was down there, dropping acid, smoking pot and listening to Muggle rock music. Lupin was allowed in, but your father and your dogfather weren't. It drove them absolutely crazy. Every few days they tried to sneak in with Lupin and got caught. We all thought it was hysterically funny. It was the only place in school where the non-humans and the part-humans and the just plain weird could let their hair down and, occasionally, their fangs out. Pomona Sprout was a 7th year then, and she grew the best dope... Still does, actually. Those were the days..."

"Enough with the nostalgia, already. Why won't you help me bring about the revolution?"

"Because I'm not an exhibitionist, Mister Potter. Furthermore, I have never done and will never do anything sexual with someone in a rabbit suit. It's just too bizarre."

"Not even a Playboy Bunny suit?"

"Not even a Playboy Bunny suit, Mister Potter."

"Oh well, so much for the revolution. Would you show me this place under Ravenclaw tower? I can think of some interesting things to do there..." Harry waggled his eyebrows in an attempt to look suggestive; Snape thought it looked ludicrous.

Snape sighed. "Only if you promise not to wear a rabbit suit."

"Oh, all right." Harry looked put out.

"This way then, Mister Potter."

"Would you quit with the Mister Potter business? It's really annoying."

"Why do you think I do it? Come on."

And they wandered off, not into the sunset, because they were indoors, but into Rowena Ravenclaw's private chamber, there to smoke dope and live snarkily and communistically ever after.

I apologize for this, I really do. If it makes you feel better, consider it an April Fool's day fic.

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Also, here's a little preview of what may or may not be my next fic. If you like it, say so in your review. If you don't, tell me what to change and I'll think about it. 

Voldemort is bored with being an Evil Overlord. Harry is sick of being the Boy-Who-Lived. They both make a run for it, and wind up in the same place, proving once and for all that great (terrible, but great) minds think alike. Harry went there for the hash bars. Voldie went there for the memories. Will Amsterdam ever be the same?


End file.
